ternal rebuke, and maintained my composure—outwardly, at least. She entered, calm, pale, collected.
"To what am I indebted for this favour, Mr. Markham?" said she, with such severe but quiet dignity as almost disconcerted me; but I answered with a smile, and impudently enough:—
"Well, I am come to hear your explanation."
"I told you I would not give it," said she. "I said you were unworthy of my confidence."
"Oh, very well," replied I, moving to the door.
"Stay a moment," said she. "This is the last time I shall see you: don't go just yet."
I remained, awaiting her further commands.
"Tell me," resumed she, "on what grounds you believe these things against me; who told you; and what did they say?"
I paused a moment. She met my eye as unflinchingly as if her bosom had been steeled with conscious innocence. She was resolved to know the worst, and determined to dare it too.
